


Exploration.

by Markuse88



Series: Markuse88 Inktober 2019 [14]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Body Worship, Masturbation, Other, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Porn With Plot, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Self-Acceptance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:04:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21510760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Markuse88/pseuds/Markuse88
Summary: Sometimes Steve feels uncomfortable in his own body. Sometimes he needs to take stock of himself. This is one of those times.(As I've said before the story is better than the summary.)
Series: Markuse88 Inktober 2019 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1501292
Kudos: 10





	Exploration.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the 2019 Inktober list. The prompt is Overgrown. This is self-edited so all mistakes are mine. Beta-read for content by the amazing Cowandcalf. I would love to hear your thoughts and I hope you enjoy. Also please feel free to offer suggestions for tags as I tend to come up blank.

Sometimes, when he was alone, Steve looked at himself in the mirror. Technically he looked at himself in the mirror every day. Washing his face, combing his hair, brushing his teeth, and shaving. But that was _normal_ looking. The kind of looking people did every day. The kind of looking that was automatic and effortless, that people didn’t give much thought to. The kind of looking Steve did, when he had the time and felt the need, was different.

Steve didn’t have a good way to explain it. It wasn’t really about vanity, (maybe a little bit). It was more about exploration….and acceptance. Everyone liked to make jokes that he was ninety years old when he wasn’t even out of his twenties. What none of them seemed to realize though was that the guy that looked back at him from the mirror was barely even _five_.

That was why Steve looked at himself in the mirror. Because there were times when his own body felt _alien_. It might sound strange but Steve had never really had time and privacy to get used to his body. Immediately after the procedure, he was put on-stage, a dancing monkey selling war-bonds and propaganda. Between shows, they were on the road and the only time he was left alone was to use the bathroom and sleep.

Then he climbed down off the stage and jumped into the war. There was downtime between missions, of course, but he never had the time to himself to think about it. He was always with the Commandoes, Bucky, or Peg. Downtime back then was taken up by training, strategizing and restocking. After the train…after Bucky went down…there was no more downtime. For months Steve razed HYDRA to the ground, or so he thought, and then…then came the ice.

Coming back to the world after seventy years presented its own set of challenges that kept Steve’s mind occupied enough that he rarely gave himself a second thought.

The point was that, until recently, Steve had never really had time to take stock of himself. To really look and catalog the stark physical changes that he had gone through. So some days, like today, Steve looked at himself. The walk-in closet in the bedroom of his apartment in the Tower was equipped with a floor-length mirror that was wide enough to encompass the width of his shoulders. It was the perfect place to do his…explorations. Stripping off the last of his clothes Steve stepped in front of the mirror. It was strange that, after so long, he still sometimes expected to see his pre-serum self looking back at him.

Before the serum, he had basically stopped growing in his mid-teens. The muscles of his chest had been practically non-existent, so thin that he had been able to touch and count his ribs with ease. His stomach was soft and formless, devoid of muscle and fat alike, he had had to punch holes in all his belts to make them tight enough to keep his pants up. His arms and legs had been tubular with hardly any muscle definition, his hands and feet were small and practically childlike. His genitals, hell before the serum the only thing his cock was good for really was taking a leak. He still felt arousal sure but the Anemia and his piss-poor circulation made natural erections far and few between. Getting one during masturbation took time and the resulting orgasm was often not worth the effort. In the end, Steve just started to repress the feeling anytime he got turned on.

Sometimes Steve looked back and wondered if the sexual frustration had fueled his short fuse.

Now though, as he looked in the mirror, turning this way and that, everything was so _different_. His chest was thick and heavy. Skin stretched tight over round, firm muscle. His nipples, which before had always been a bit numb, were now very sensitive to touch and when played with would send zings of pleasure through him. Steve had gotten good at hiding that fact and was thankful it was usually only skin to skin contact that caused it. His abdomen was now tapered into a wide V with abs like segments of a Hersey bar framed by sculpted obliques; muscles Steve didn’t know _existed_ until the serum.

His arms were, if he were being honest, a thing of beauty. His biceps so large and round they rivaled soft-balls when he flexed them, his triceps leaner but still large and sculpted. His forearms were proportionally muscled with veins like they had been carved from his flesh. His hands were now wide with long, sure fingers. That had taken a lot of getting used to when it came to his art. His lower half was not to be out-done though. His thighs were like fleshen tree trunks and strong enough that he could crush a watermelon between them. He’d done it on a dare from Natasha. His calves were nearly as thick as his biceps and vascular when Steve flexed them. Strangely his knees were still a bit knobby and his ankles sort of thin. His feet, no longer flat-footed, were big enough that he just barely avoided having to custom order shoes, coming in at a size fourteen.

Even now, as he stood in front of the mirror, touching his overlarge muscles, flexing and stretching them, it was hard for his mind to accept that this was _him_.

His explorations always ended the same. The touching and flexing, and yes admiring, would arouse him and make his cock stand tall. Today was no exception and he gladly took himself in hand. It might be perverse but the changes in his manhood were the ones that excited him those most. He spent years having a cock that was used for little more than elimination and small, basically useless, testicles. Now though his cock was long and thick, even when soft, with loose, velvety foreskin. His testicles now the size of large eggs and hung naturally low. He wasn’t the largest man, he knew from a brief and poorly worded internet search, but he still needed to wear compression underwear and, when hard, he was over eight inches.

Steve’s experience with sex was limited to a handful of times with Peg back in the day. It was always good but the distraction of the War and HYDRA was always in the back of his mind so he could never fully enjoy it. In the future, he knew there was be no limit to the number of people that he could take to bed, men and women, but the idea of casual sex and the “hook-up” culture didn’t appeal to him. He would rather have a connection before jumping into bed.

That was ok though. Steve was thoroughly satisfied with masturbating. Especially at moments like this. Stroking his hard cock, his foreskin and copious pre-cum making the slide warm and wet. Alternating hands so he could flex his thick biceps, stroke his powerful, heavy chest and tweak his sensitive nipples.

Steve couldn’t tear his eyes away from the mirror as his strokes quickened. One hand cradled the back of his head, flexing his powerful bicep and shoulder. A musky scent filled the area as sweat broke out under his arms and across his chest and pre-cum flowed from his cock to the carpeted floor. He felt his balls pull tight to his body as his orgasm approached, his thick chest heaved as he gasped for breath. His whole body flushed as cum erupted from him in thick, potent ropes; painting the mirror in from of him.

Legs suddenly going weak Steve hit his knees and sat back on his heels, knees spread wide. Steve smiled, watching himself through streaks of cum as he came down from his orgasm.

Steve couldn’t help the smile as he looked at himself in the mirror, rubbing his hands over his chest and stomach, smearing sweat and cum on his skin. The sickly kid from Brooklyn could have never imagined the picture of power and virility that he was looking at. Thing was though Steve _was_ that skinny kid from Brooklyn. Deep down. Even in moments like this, he had to remember that. It’s what kept him grounded. With one last look at his blown up physique, Steve lumbered to his feet and headed for the shower.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to play with the meaning of Overgrown here, "To grow to excess", by giving it multiple meanings. Steve's body itself being overlarge and powerful. His body outgrowing his mind in that he has never fully accepted the changes. I hope that came through.  
> I am not sure if this will be expanded or not. I have an idea for Stucky version for this but, at the moment, I can't seem to make it work. I plan to try in the future. I do hope you all enjoyed it. I had a lot of fun writing it.  
> Find me on tumblr @ https://mcdannoangelwolf.tumblr.com


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